Their bedroom was dark, the only sound was the creek of the rocking chair, as my youngest dozed off to sleep in my arms. Praying over them quietly as to not wake them, I heard a small voice peek up from under her tightly cocooned covers.
” Momma, am I still special?”
This tiny sentence stung my ears and went straight to my Mothers heart. I didn’t like the sound of her doubt.
” Yes baby, you never have to ask that again. You are special everyday. You will always be special.”
” Ok, goodnight Momma.”
This question continued for four nights. The same question and same response. Only the fourth time she asked it, I laid the baby in her crib and curled into bed with my big girl. I rubbed her blonde curls, and scratched her small framed back as I repeated the things that were special about her. What could I say to convince this young lady of my utmost confidence that she is a special girl. To her special means not like everyone else. To her special is a positive statement to make about herself. I love this about her. I love that even at age four she is thinking this deep.
I left her room that night rethinking my parenting style. Is she lacking love from us? Do I need to spend more one on one time with her? Regardless of what she is lacking, the Lord will show me what she needs when she needs it.
The sun was shining bright as we drove slow on the country road. With the windows down the girls in the backseat let the wind blow through their hair as they giggled with delight. That vitamin D pelting on my chest brought me to life and refreshed my winter skin.
We drove slower as we came up to the house. It was then I saw it. A bright yellow porch swing beckoning to me to sit on it. The white siding on the 1920’s farm house shone in the sun and danced it’s way right into my heart. The white picket fence that held eight acres together called to me to run in it’s green pastures. The tire swing beside the house tricked me into envisioning our children on it in the Fall as the leaves began to turn red. A sigh of hope and a prayer came off our lips as we asked our Father to give us favor to buy this land. To start our life a fresh here, and give our children room to run.
I sat there unable to get out of the van as I reminded myself that we serve a GOOD Father. What matters to us, matters to him, because he made us. What I love he loves. It was then that I called out exactly what we wanted in a forever home to raise our children. As the list came out of my mouth I began to believe that he wanted to give me the desires of my heart. He made me with a deep need for space, quiet and peace.
As we pulled away from the home we so love, I asked God a question.
” Papa, am I still special?”
After all the heart ache, the grief and the trauma. After all the moving and the griping about not having the house I wanted. After all the times I doubted his love for me. After all the times I told him he had forsaken me.
Was I still special to him? Little me that doubts him so.
His response was that of mine to my own child.
” Yes baby, you never have to ask that again. You are special everyday. You will always be special.”
